


The Horntail Jumper Incident

by gingerweasley



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Short One Shot, Weasley sweaters, draco in a weasley sweater, ocd!draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 14:37:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5629987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingerweasley/pseuds/gingerweasley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco Malfoy never thought he would ever be caught in a Weasley sweater, boy, was he dead wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Horntail Jumper Incident

**Author's Note:**

> The boys do not belong to me-- they belong to J.K. Rowling. <3 
> 
> This is just a drabble/one-shot, so please forgive me.

Draco Malfoy stepped out of the fireplace in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. He sat down in the large claw-footed chair and propped his feet up on the black leather ottoman. It had been a relatively short day in the Department of Mysteries.

He admired his new Prada shoes and stretched his lean legs. He smiled at the memory of picking them out with Harry just two days before. Draco had been reluctant to try out muggle fashion but was delightfully surprised after walking into the London Bergdorf Goodman. Harry’s emerald eyes had twinkled when he saw Draco’s mouth drop at the sheer amount of designer leather in the store. He smirked and shook his head at the memory.

He kicked off the shoes and after doing so was quickly reminded of the garish socks on his feet. Draco rolled his eyes. He had borrowed them from Harry because he had forgotten to bring socks in his overnight bag. Apparently a house elf had made them for Harry many years ago. One was bright red with broomsticks and the other green with snitches on it.

Harry’s odd socks were the least of his worries, however. He looked at the clock on the mantle. It was 6:13, which bothered him for many reasons, the main one being; Harry was late. Draco loathes tardiness. It was supposed to be Harry’s night to make dinner and he knew that Draco liked dinner to be started at precisely 6:15. The blond sighed and stood up, resigning. He knew that if dinner was to be started when it was supposed to, he would need to make it himself. Harry would just have to switch with him later this week. The idea made him cringe. They had a set schedule. Every week, Harry took Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and Draco took Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. They either cooked dinners together on Sundays or went out. It had been this way for the past three years, and bad scheduling or tardiness rarely affected it.

After arriving in the large kitchen, Draco shrugged off his Ministry cloak and draped it on the hook. He loosened his red tie, and put on his favorite black apron, to protect his favorite tailored light blue dress shirt and impeccably pressed navy slacks, and set to work. He had decided that spaghetti would be an easy choice. He made the sauce, tasting it every now and then, soon deciding that after one more pinch of fresh oregano, it would be perfect. While placing the pasta in the pot to boil, he was quickly reminded of how much he loved cooking. The aromas, the precise measurements, and the waiting all reminded him of potion making which he missed dearly.

When the pasta was done boiling, after vanishing the water in the pot with a quick flick of his wand, Draco checked his watch. It was 7:21. He thought anxiously about how he doesn’t like eating after eight o’clock. He hoped that Harry would hurry home. He mixed the sauce with the spaghetti and then turned the stove on low. He poured himself a generous glass of quality cabernet and decided that he would take a shower to help ease the nervous feelings. He grabbed both the bottle and the glass and took them with him.

Walking up the stairs to the master bedroom, Draco finished the glass of wine wearily. He ran his slender fingers through his platinum blond locks when he arrived to the room. He poured himself another glass. He was really becoming concerned for his boyfriend. Harry may be late relatively often, but it was never more than twenty minutes. Two glasses turned to three, and three to four, and soon, Draco found himself looking through Harry’s closet.

He knew what he was looking for, and after ten minutes of digging, he found it. It was a green jumper with a gold Hungarian Horntail embroidered on the front. He had told Harry countless times that it was the most appalling piece of fabric he had ever laid eyes on. He had been lying every single time. He had always been jealous of the collection of sweaters Harry had from Molly Weasley. Draco had never received a handmade gift before, and every time he saw a Weasley Jumper, it pained him. He wanted to feel what it felt like to wear one.

He stumbled as he stood up from where he was sitting on the floor and he clumsily unbuttoned his starchy blue shirt. Draco pulled the Horntail jumper over his head and sighed as the carefully and lovingly knit material touched his skin. He couldn’t help himself. It was the most comfortable thing he had ever worn. Every piece of apparel he had owned in his entire life was supposedly of the best quality. None of those things even remotely compared to the value of the woven green sweater on his back. He smiled to himself and poured another glass of wine. After downing the glass in less than a minute he quickly decided that he didn’t need his stiff slacks anymore. He pulled them off swiftly and then considered the possibility of putting on a pair of Harry’s favorite sweatpants. He figured that would be taking it too far. The blond poured the rest of the bottle of wine into his glass and sat down on the bed. He placed the glass on the nightstand and slowly drifted into nothingness.

 

===========

It was 10:15pm. Harry Potter finally had arrived home at Grimmauld Place. He knew he would have a lot of explaining to do. Draco never liked it when he was late, but Harry had never been this late before. Four hours late. This was a new record. He hoped his boyfriend would understand that he had been sent on an emergency call that was supposed to only take two hours at the most and that he couldn’t send an owl or a patronus to let him know where he would be. 

Wandering through the house, he called out, “Draco! I’m sorry I’m late. I hope I can make it up to you.” Harry began to wonder where he was. Maybe he went home for the night, he thought. He frowned and went to the kitchen to find something to eat. He noticed Draco’s cloak, and considered that maybe he was still there. He saw a pot on the stove, and felt a pang of guilt because it was Friday- his night to cook. Damn, Draco definitely isn’t happy. We are off schedule now. I really owe him one, this time.

Harry served himself a plate of pasta and ate as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks. He was so tired. It had been a long day. He pulled off his cloak, draped it over his arm, and began to walk upstairs. Yawning, he turned into his bedroom. He suddenly noticed that all of the lamps were on and that his clothes- which were carefully organized in his closet that morning- were all over the floor, confused, he investigated the scene further. 

 

He began to chuckle under his breath. This was the most wonderful thing he had ever seen. Draco was fast asleep, lying on the bed curled on his side. His lips were parted ever so slightly, and his face was stress-free. There was an empty bottle of wine and a glass on the side table. The greatest part about the scene was that not only was Draco drunk and asleep, but he was wearing Harry’s favorite Horntail jumper. His heart jumped at the sight of his always organized and put together Draco in his jumper, boxers, and that pair of socks Dobby had made for him in his fourth year.

After setting the purple orchids he had bought (as a precaution) down on the bedside table, he kissed his blond boyfriend’s forehead. He loved seeing his face so relaxed.

Draco’s grey eyes fluttered open and they widened quickly. “No one can know about this.”

“I wouldn’t dream of telling anyone” replied Harry with a smirk.

===============  
Four months later, with the Horntail Jumper incident far in the past, Harry and Draco arrived at the Burrow for Christmas supper. Molly greeted them at the fireplace and assured them that they were impeccably on time- as usual.

After a beautiful dinner with the family, Molly handed Draco a brown lumpy package. She winked at Harry. Draco furrowed his brow and carefully unwrapped the package. It was a jumper. It was quite possibly the most beautiful thing Draco had ever seen. It was emerald with a beautifully embroidered silver calligraphic “D” on the front. 

“I thought you might want one of your own, so you don’t have to keep borrowing mine,” Harry said.

Draco blushed, tears brimming in his eyes, “Thank you.”


End file.
